


Late Night Meetings

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Series: Gobblepot Ramblings [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Introspective Porn, It is now!, Just Os and Jim doing the do, M/M, and thinking the things, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: Jim and Oswald have something strange between them. Something that they both aren't yet brave enough to say out loud, but that also can't be fought anymore.





	Late Night Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Lately I've been writing late night Gobblepot one shots, and I figured why not share them. <3 
> 
> Hope you enjoy my loves.

Oswald’s fingers tangled in his short hair as their breath seemed to mingle between them. Jim had never been able to last very long when it had been so long between them and both men lingered on the edge of the abyss. It was tipping between them, the electricity of their lust-- their passion. Zipping in the air like the tingle of a storm about to crack the sky, anticipation and anxiety washing over their bodies as they built steadily on the tides of want and need, letting their most inner and animalistic desire for one another be the one thing they admitted. 

They both had a lot to lose if they were honest. Of course, the words choked inside Jim’s throat as they danced on the tip of Oswald’s tongue and both men struggled with their own inadequacies. The truth was, Oswald would say it. He had to fight not to. He had to make himself hold back, because Jim wasn’t ready. He might never be ready. The great and profound hero James Gordon, the man who was going to save all of Gotham, the most moral and just person Oswald had ever seen… He wasn’t ready to be in love with someone like Oswald. 

It hurt. 

But it was true, or at least, to the king pin it was. So he held back his love, his affection, his praise. He demanded Jim thrust harder, faster, and just like that… All to avoid saying the words he wanted so much to say, the confession which haunted his very soul with it’s depth and truth and ache to be freed. 

Meanwhile, Jim wants little more than to say it. Because he knows. Even if Oswald doesn’t, Jim does. He knows how he feels. He knows the petite, black haired, angular featured, nightmarish criminal in his arms is it. His love. His want. His need. His salvation. He isn’t perfect. Oswald knows that, and he loves him anyway. He looks up to him anyway. He believes Jim is good anyway. He’s never had that before and as he grunts and rocks inside of him, he’s trying to make himself say it. To tell him. To insist he shut his bossy, overactive mouth for two seconds and listen while Jim pours out his heart in a way that isn’t at all himself, because it’s so much better. He wants to be better-- another first if Jim is to be honest. Oswald makes him want to be a better man. 

And it’s all so terrifying for the both of them. 

Jim muffles into Oswald’s neck praises. Telling him how good he feels. How right. And it’s not wrong. Jim has never shied away from sex, having had his fair share of partners along the road to get here, but this isn’t really sex, is it? This is more. This is entwined bodies and soft touches and everything he just isn’t good enough yet to say with words. This is love. It comes with every touch, every kiss, every panting breath and every shakey kiss. This is the thing that as a young man Jim rather suspected he would never truly know. Because he didn’t let people in. Because people couldn’t really be trusted to be allowed in-- because he wasn’t good enough to be accepted and how could he let them see that? 

But Oswald has seen him.

Has been hurt by him. More even than anyone else, perhaps. 

He’s been failed by him. 

And yet here he is, clinging to Jim and accepting him and clearly fighting against himself not to tell Jim how he feels and the detective could weep for it, were he that kind of man. It isn’t fair. Someday, he’ll make it up to him. Some day he’ll tell him and insist Oswald tell him and they’ll both just say it. Neither too proud, too scared, too stubborn. They’ll just say it. But for now, all that comes are those two little words they’ve both, unaware of the other’s predilection, become rather addicted to hearing from one another. It’s Jim today who whispers it in Oswald’s ear. 

“I’m close.” His voice is a gruff grunt as his body rocks into Oswald again and again, inhaling his scent with as much intensity as he can manage. It’s been weeks for them. This sneaking thing is hard enough-- let alone when they have to take intervals like this between meetings. They say they have a lot to lose. He suspects Oswald would risk it. But Jim is too much a coward. At the same time, Oswald’s nails drag along his shoulder blades as the smaller man whimpers a nod of assent as he likewise is just right there at the edge. So close to toppling over… And so very sure if he said the words, Jim would be honorable. Oswald is the coward, because it isn’t that he doesn’t think Jim would say it back, it isn’t that the noble man which his thighs currently hang from would reject him-- wouldn’t pull this thing they share from the shadows eagerly if Oswald just asked…

It’s that Oswald doesn’t believe he has that right. To ask. To make a request. 

What a profound service-- what an act of holy intervention, a miracle itself that Jim wants him in anyway, even in secret. Oswald loves him enough, worships him enough, longs for him enough, and yearns just enough that it doesn’t matter how he has him. He just knows he has to. 

Not to have him…

It’s the one thing the criminal feels sure he couldn’t survive. 

When Jim comes inside him, it’s a strangely familiar sensation. His body hadn’t felt it in weeks, as aforementioned, but he knows this feeling. This intimacy. He knows they way Jim climaxes so well, he shifts his head just slightly because he knows the other man will be biting his neck softly as he tries to stifle the cries of pleasure that overcome him. He knows Jim’s hands will flex tightly against his hips, he knows Jim’s own body will still and give that final thrust up. He knows what it feels like to be filled by him, to feel him coming apart inside of him. It’s so familiar, so tangibly existent in Oswald’s mind because he’s memorized this sensation. This... bliss. Because in the beginning, he couldn’t believe he was capable of bringing Jim to this point, to this pleasure. To this release. And he learned through continuous awe, and thorough and needy repetition over this last year. He knows and he revels in it, letting that feeling of pride blossom in his chest as his own orgasm only draws closer and all the more ominous, looming over his taut frame as he grips his truly adored lover close, and just lets it overcome him. 

And it does. 

It would be too much, if it was first time. In fact, it very much was. Oswald had to fight his own tears of ecstasy as his body clenched and writhed with the feeling of it all. The over feeling. Too much to feel. All too much. But now, it’s familiar sort of overload of the senses, and Oswald knows just to give into it. To take it all in and strive as much as possible to memorize his own feelings of bliss as he has well learned Jim’s. On the cold nights he spends alone in a bed that he wishes was shared, he likes to be able to recall moments like this for his comfort. Moments that are far too much. Moments where he whines and whimpers and moans Jim’s name along with a string of unintelligible curses, gripping the detective as tight against him as he can and feeling Jim return the embrace oh so willingly. It all crashes around him. Like being drowned. Dragged under it. Swallowed whole by the sensations. Surrender to true and unparalleled elation, and then in the wake of the pleasure, Jim sinks against his chest for those few moments of panting, lazy, uncomplicated-- facade-less comfort. Afterglow bathing over them. 

A moment like this is when he’ll say it one day. Jim is certain. This moment is one of his favorites. When they’ve both come, and they’ve both finished, and their bodies lack bones for about ninety seconds and they just lay there, against one another… Their heart beats felt by one another as their breathing is erratic and somehow seems to fall in synch in spite of the exertion. 

One of these days, Jim will look up into those bluer than blue eyes and he’ll tell Oswald. 

And it’ll be so simple. The three words they both just so desperately want to hear him say. He’d kiss his way along Oswald’s chest, up to his neck, bite his ear, repeat it again and again because damn it, it’s how he feels. He loves him. And of these days, he’s going to have the guts to just tell him. 

Today though-- tonight, it’s three different words that end their bliss, three words that cut into what could be an eternity like this. Just against each other. Synched breathing. Steady heartbeats. Happiness. If only Jim could be that brave to hold onto what he wants, instead of going back to who he is. 

Not today. 

“I should go.” He says when he meets Oswald’s eyes and the kingpin’s expression doesn’t even harden. There’s nothing to begrudge. It’s what he expects now, and Jim feels utterly the bastard for that fact, but what can be done? He sighs and climbs off of him, he gets something for Oswald to clean up with and starts to dress himself again. Maybe one day, he’ll give him a proper goodbye, kiss his lips, Oswald will straighten his crooked tie… But for now, Jim settles for a smile across the room as Oswald is wrapped in a sheet and moving towards the bathroom. A shared smile in which they both seem to acknowledge just how much they know about how things are. 

“Don’t wait so long next time.” Jim said softly as he grabs his jacket and pauses before heading to the door. 

Oswald’s smile shifts to a familiar teasing smirk. 

“I won’t, detective.”

And before he can lament too much on everything else there is to be said, Jim lets that be the moment they can hold onto, flirty and light until the next time they see one another. 

Maybe that’ll be the time he tells him.


End file.
